The Sway of a Southern Tune
by ClassicalTorture
Summary: A peaceful day with Stiles and his husband, swaying to the scorching tune of Bossa Nova


Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf. Only the baby is mine. Everything else isn't . Inspired by my own awesome day today.

Stiles smiled as he slowly swayed his hips in rhythm with "Waters of March" by Luciana Souza glazing softly from the radio, and scrubbed the dish he held in his hand. The kitchen was only lit with a few small lights along the wall, surrounding the space with warm, gold glow. The man hummed to himself as another porcelain disk joined its duplicates on the spacious granite counter. Crystal glasses clinked against each other in a melody of their own as he started to gently rinse the wine out of them.

Today was so very nice, thought Stiles as he remembered the day he'd had. No worries to bother him or his family, no emergencies; just a peaceful day filled with love, cuddles, and a sense of belonging. He recalled spending more then just two hours just sitting in the rocking chair with his normally hyperactive toddler, just cuddling and telling stories as music poured from the dynamic on the little dresser. Every day little Sofia was a hyper baby of 2, wanting to explore everything around her with the cute button nose she clearly inherited from Stiles himself while his husband chuckled under his breath and watched Stiles try in vain to keep her from tumbling off her chair, or running into a cabinet. But not today.

His little ball of energy stumbled into his arms as soon as he walked into the cutely decorated classroom, and snuggled into his neck, tiny arms tight. Stiles smiled and cooed at the greeting, burying his nose in her sweet smelling hair tied together in somewhat lopsided ponytails with blue ribbons, one of which has already been untied and was hanging precariously from the very tip of the strand.

Hi, Miniwolf- said Stiles as he pulled Sofia into a more talk-friendly position.

The little girl smiles, and bopped his nose with her chubby finger, giggling and covering her mouth with both hands as Stiles' eyes crossed in attempt to look at the spot she touched. She squealed in happiness as he then launched her in the air, catching her in the madness of frilly skirts and a runaway ribbon, spinning his daughter around before settling her on his hip. With the last wave to the pre-k teacher, the father-daughter duo was off, Stiles listening patiently and nodding, oohing and aahing at appropriate places, as Sofia chirped at him about her day and how much she enjoyed painting the daisies on the big red rubber balls their teacher provided.

Getting home was usually hectic, but that day the stars seemed to decide that Stiles deserved a break, and made his little cupcake snooze in the backseat of the car. A short ride an a banana for a snack later they were seated in Sofia's room, walls whispering to them with the drawings of trees and flowers that bordered the sky blue paint of the ceiling, with the rays of the sun peaking from behind the blinds.

When the two were seated comfortably in the big rocking chair that sat in the corner, Sofia on Stiles' lap, the man pulled out something he had been working on for a while now from behind their seat. The little girls eyes went wide as she looked at the hand-sewn doll her Daddy was holding in his hand as the other gently supported her bum. The doll was a cheery yellow color, made from a soft cotton material, that smelled just like Daddy; had a pink ribbon around her head to serve as hair, two stitched eyes, a little pink button for a mouth, and a lacy strip of material running down the middle to simulate the girl's own yellow and pink nightie. Tiny fingers reached reverently forward, grabbing the soft toy, and hugging it to her chest. Stiles smiled at the sight, enjoying his daughter loving something he made for her. She needn't know about the numerous little enchantments he'd woven into the doll as he was making every stitch, making sure his protection and love saturated the material of his old shirt, and the ribbon Derek had given him saying it had belonged to Laura when she was younger that he had found in her old room before the house had been demolished in order to make ground for the rebuild Hale Manor. Nothing would get to his child as long as his gift was with her. The hair from her other Papa sewn into the heard of the doll only added to the protection, providing a living smell of an alpha to anyone who approached close enough to be a threat. The ability to become animate and move around with a very high speed was just another layer he had sewn on.

Snuggling to her Daddy's chest, Sofia huffed softly, burying her nose in his shirt, little ear on his heartbeat, as Stiles wrapped her purple blankie around them both, cuddling his baby close and rocking them to and fro. Soon Sofie was asleep, but he still sat there, hand stroking her feather-soft hair he had long ago freed from the last ribbon, and humming along with Bossa Nova that streamed through the air.

That was the sight his husband had come home to, strolling quietly into the forest bedroom, smiling at Stiles, and leaning down to give him a kiss. Stiles stretched his lips in a grin as he nuzzled his mate, enjoying the slight burn of the stubble on his cheek, and the mirthful glint he saw in the blue eyes of his wolf. Peter could only grin in return as he accepted the lightly snoring bundle, settling Sofie into her little bed, tucking her in, and arranging the limp hands and feet to fit under the blanket as she snuggled into her new doll whose cross-stitches eyes blinked at him intelligently from the cotton face.

The two men stepped into the kitchen without a word, settling easily into a routing of making dinner, moving seamlessly around the kitchen without bumping into each other, as though they had done it a thousand times. Peter reached to the radio that set atop the fridge, turning it to let the music fill the air, as they started moving in sync with the melody. Just as Stiles put down the last dish he felt hands settle on his hips, making the sway left and right, as Peter pressed himself behind his mate. Stiles put his fingers over his husbands, threading them together and leaning his head back on Peter's shoulder, exposing his neck to soft kisses and licks, as the other man leaned down to lavish him. Humming appreciatively Stiles turned his head in order to give Peter more space, and wrung his hands up, grasping the other's hair between his fingers, dragging his fingertips sharply and insistently over his scalp, making Pater moan slightly at the delicious pressure and almost purring at the sensation.

Muita Bobeira washed over the two as they lazily caressed each other, eyes closed, concentrating on the sensation and just plain feeling. Breaking apart in order to eat, the couple sat next to each other on the rug in front of the fireplace, Stiles leaning against Peter, drawing his legs under him, and enjoying the feeling of rare closeness they were experiencing. Piano and a guitar strummed on the background, the windows gaping with the glittering darkness below, the slight shimmer of the fire reflecting in the gauze curtains as they swayed in the gently breeze that whiffed through the slim openings between the windows.

As they finished their meal, and cleared everything away Peter went to check on Sofia leaving Stiles in the kitchen with a flush on his face, remembering the sweet taste of his husband's mouth on his, tongue still tingling with the sensation. Stiles loved the active way their family usually operated in, endless laughter and excitement, but on days like this one he let himself unwind, relax and just settle into the lay lines their house was built on and let the magic course through his veins, filling him up and refreshing his entire being, deepening his breath and expanding his mind, making it accept things he still didn't comprehend or needed, but accepted never the less. Sometimes it whispered scary things at him, such as words that Sofia was never meant to exist, or men couldn't give birth, and that his mind had too many holes in it to be proper, but he dismissed it as always.

Peter came back to the kitchen watching his love sway his hips at the sink, humming along with the tune, and smiles to himself. His hard work had paid off, and the blood he had spilled was well worth it in the end. No matter who's it had been.


End file.
